PoetryLiterary Corner
Tasting a Pomegranate
The berry of the fruit crushes upon my tongue,
bitter, sweet, savored. And the hills cascade into
waves of green, rising with the patter of my footsteps,
lowered by the weight of fruits of labor
that hang like a jacket from a windowsill,
placed in a position to be held but
always in fear of slipping during the next
round of layoffs.
I taste the sweet fruit that comes from markets bu
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I seem to recall that Sergei Paradzhanov (whose last name was originally Paradzhanian) made a movie called The Color of Pomegranates.